


dance with u

by gureisu



Category: Mystic Messenger (Video Game)
Genre: Bathroom Sex, Drunk Sex, F/M, Fluff and Smut, PWP, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Semi-Public Sex, Sexual Tension, Sexy Dancing, Smut, actually only one character is drunk, lots of buildup to the porn, obviously set pre-covid..., sex in the bar bathroom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-16
Updated: 2020-11-16
Packaged: 2021-03-09 23:53:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,425
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27584351
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gureisu/pseuds/gureisu
Summary: You spun around, and your eyes—much brighter than usual, Saeyoung thought—landed squarely on him.For a split second, he was just a kid in a bar, awkward and self-conscious, sober and enchanted with you. And you were perfect—resplendent in your confidence, impossibly sexy in your little skirt with your shirt hanging off your shoulder.As you sashayed up to him, he felt his face heat up, and he averted his eyes. This girl couldn’t be looking at him. But it was you, and of course you were.--RFA goes to a bar; Saeyoung sees you drunk for the first time; you totally do it in the bathroom.
Relationships: 707 | Choi Luciel & Main Character, 707 | Choi Luciel & Reader, 707 | Choi Luciel/Main Character, 707 | Choi Luciel/Reader
Comments: 11
Kudos: 219





	dance with u

**Author's Note:**

> Fell asleep fantasizing about going to a bar with the RFA, had some weird dreams, then wrote this smut. Bits and pieces of this maaaay be based on real-life experiences. I think I am just fixated on the idea of dancing at a bar again??? Remember what that used to be like??? Ahhhh, pre-2020...
> 
> Note that this fic DOES include sex between a drunk person and a sober person. Decided not to tag as dubcon since they do talk about consent but be aware that it's a thing!
> 
> Anyway, enjoy this porn (I swear there IS porn at the end of this long buildup of sexual tension oops). It's in second person so you can self-insert if ya want, though I do also use she/her pronouns for MC. See notes at the end for the songs I imagine them dancing to!

“This is where we’re meeting them?”

Saeyoung slid his second-favorite car into a parking spot, surveying the dingy scene before him. Frankly, this just wasn’t exactly the kind of place he’d expect his friends to pick. The parking lot was full of cars, but that was the only indication that it wasn’t just an abandoned lot. The building in front of them might have been an old warehouse: the paint was peeling off the walls, which were spattered with graffiti; there was an unmarked door set in a wide frame. There wasn’t even a sign indicating what this place was called; if the GPS he’d designed himself—so he was 100% certain it was accurate—hadn’t led him here, he’d say it was a mistake.

Beside him in the front seat, you giggled. “Not fancy enough for the ex-secret agent?”

Saeyoung absently batted at you, putting the car in park. He always parked far from the door, out of habit—it made him harder to track. Not that that mattered, now.

“It’s just—I’m trying to picture Jumin walking into a place like this. And it’s…” He closed one eye thoughtfully, then grinned. “Kind of amazing.”

“Nah,” said a quiet voice from the backseat. “Places that look like like this are always the fanciest ones.”

You burst out laughing. “You’re actually totally right,” you said.

“I know,” said Saeran.

“How do you even know that?” asked Saeyoung, twisting in his seat to look at his brother. Saeran quirked an eyebrow but said nothing, moving to climb out of the car.

“Fine,” said Saeyoung after a moment. “I’m the least cultured one here. I accept that.”

Saeran snickered as he slipped out of the car, and you followed suit. Saeyoung watched you—the way your hips twitched as you slid over on the seat, the way your skirt slid up just enough to give him the briefest glimpse of the smooth skin of your thigh.

As he often did whenever you went out, he wished you were back home.

Since the world had finally begun to slow down around him, he found he spent most of his time, whether he was working by himself or surrounded by others, just wishing he was alone with you.

It wasn’t that he didn’t treasure the evenings spent watching movies in his recently-homey bunker with you and Saeran, relishing every precious minute with his newfound family.

It wasn’t that he didn’t want to see his friends, either—it had been a few months since everyone had gotten together in one place, since the day the RFA had all gathered in his bunker and he'd asked you to marry him.

But there was always some part of him, a primal, long-denied instinct, that churned beneath the surface, yearning to have you all to himself, to hold you tight and run his hands over you, to trail his teeth over your skin and feel your pulse and know you were his.

_Maybe in a year_ , he thought as he climbed out of the car and walked around the front to join you. _Maybe in a year I’ll have some restraint, when it comes to her. Maybe in five years. Ten. Maybe never._

He shook his head to clear it and wrapped an arm tightly around your waist, enjoying the way you squeaked as he pulled you close, bumping your hip playfully against his hand.

He pushed open the unmarked door and was met with a barrage of sound. There was indistinct pop music blaring over the speakers, and the floor shook a little as he walked through. As his brother had—inexplicably—predicted, however, the place was decidedly nicer than it appeared from the outside. There were fabric-covered red lamps everywhere, casting the room in an otherworldly glow. The center of the large room—apparently a dance floor—seemed to be lit from beneath. There were couples and groups seated around the dance floor at small tables, all looking particularly young and attractive in the bar’s flattering lighting.

Saeyoung felt Saeran flinch back behind him—he was particularly conscious of his brother’s tiniest reactions—and turned to whisper to him.

“This okay?” he asked, in the least idiot-doting-brother voice he could manage.

Saeran rolled his eyes. “It’s loud,” he admitted softly. “But it’s fine.”

A much more boisterous voice cut through the haze of sound filling the club, calling your name. Saeyoung turned in time to see Yoosung surge forward through the crowd and grasp your hands, beaming.

“Yoosung!” you sang, your voice sweet and full of exuberance—and Saeyoung couldn’t help the tiny prick of jealousy he felt. He hated to admit it, but hearing the affection in your voice—even as you greeted his closest friend—made him feel just a little bit envious. He knew better, but a part of him wanted to keep your unadulterated enthusiasm all to himself.

“How are you? It’s so good to see you! I’ve missed you!” Yoosung held onto your hands and grinned at you.

“What about me?” Saeyoung cut in, nudging the side of his friend’s head. “You missed me too, right?”

Yoosung spun and threw his arms around him, and Saeyoung had to dig in his feet to not get thrown back against the door.

“I missed you, hyung!” Yoosung cried, and Saeyoung felt himself grinning. He glanced at Saeran and could’ve sworn he saw a ghost of a smile on his face, too.

“Are you already drunk?!” Saeyoung asked, patting his friend on the head. “We just got here!”

“You were late,” said a much deeper voice, and Saeyoung peered over the heads of the crowd to see Jumin beckoning them over.

You pulled Yoosung off Saeyoung and linked arms with him, and the two of you practically skipped to the bar, calling out to the group as you approached them.

“Is everybody going to be like this tonight?” Saeran muttered quietly, coming to stand beside Saeyoung.

Saeyoung didn’t hear him right away, as he was watching you greet his friends.

Jumin had been leaning against the bar, holding a glass of wine in one hand—managing to look ten times more glamorous than everyone around him, as usual. He stood fully to greet you, putting one large hand on your shoulder. The crowd cleared a little, and Saeyoung saw the rest of the group already gathered, too. Zen leapt up from his stool and roughly pushed Jumin out of the way, beaming at you. Jaehee also stood to hug you, and Saeyoung couldn’t help but notice the way her hands grazed the small of your back.

Not for the first time, he thought that each and every one of his friends might have harbored a secret wish that he didn’t exist—if it meant that they’d have a shot with you.

“Hey.” Saeran prodded his shoulder, and he jumped a little.

“Huh?”

“I said, are they going to be like this all night?” asked Saeran, his eyes also fixed on the group. Saeyoung wondered if his brother also saw what he saw—how much everyone adored you.

Saeyoung opted for the goofiness rather than honesty, because it seemed much easier than expressing his totally misplaced jealousy to his twin.

“Oh yeah,” he said, winking at Saeran. “It’s party time.”

Saeran signed exaggeratedly, but Saeyoung knew that on some level Saeran craved this kind of casual interaction with other people in the very same way that he did—they were, the both of them, two affection-starved kids grown into lonely adults who secretly craved the warmth of others. Saeyoung was pretty sure this was something they shared, anyway.

He led the way through the growing crowd in the middle of the room and Saeran trailed a few paces behind him. Their friends welcomed them warmly—Jumin even leaned over to grasp Saeran’s hand, which Saeyoung had never seen him do before.

“Everyone’s finally here,” said Zen, casually leaning over the bar to get the bartender’s attention while addressing the group. “We’ve got to do a shot.”

Yoosung cheered and Jumin sighed but didn’t decline.

Saeyoung cast a sidelong glance at his brother, who’d found a spot for himself at the bar but was looking a little uncomfortable. Saeyoung had years of experience casually refusing drinks without making a big deal out of it; Saeran, who understandably shared his brother’s aversion to alcohol, hadn’t had to deal with this particular situation yet.

Saeyoung leaned forward, but before he could say anything, you’d somehow slipped into position between Zen and the bar and redirected the bartender’s attention, sliding out your wallet as you spoke to her softly.

“Hey, no!” Zen protested, clearly startled both by your sudden proximity as well as the sly way you’d taken charge. “The RFA princess doesn’t need to order or pay for anything.”

You flipped your hair over your shoulder and winked at Saeyoung as you handed the bartender your card.

“The RFA princess takes care of her loyal subjects,” you said, laughing at the look of horror on Zen’s face.

Jumin, who’d been watching quietly, shrugged. “If she can pay, and she wants to pay, why shouldn’t she?” he said, leaning back against the bar. “However, they already have my card, so there’s really no need.”

You stuck your tongue out at Jumin, perching on the empty barstool between him and Zen.

“Fine, then you buy the next round, Mr. Han,” you giggled, making him blush with your unconventional formality.

The bartender slid seven shots toward you, and you immediately jumped up again, grabbing the two on the end and wriggling back through the group to hand them to the brothers.

“It’s lemon juice,” you murmured, directing your gentle smile at Saeran, who’d stiffened at first. Saeyoung saw his brother visibly relax as you pressed the shot into his hand with a wink.

Saeyoung’s heart fluttered.

It wasn’t that he felt the need to keep his sobriety a secret from his friends, exactly. They’d definitely all seen him consume an unreasonable amount of sugary nonalcoholic “cocktails” at various RFA parties, and none of them had ever given him a hard time for it. But they’d also never had a _conversation_ about it, and he didn’t feel the desire to delve deep into the well of his trauma just to explain why he wouldn’t do a shot.

You knew all this, of course, and your instinct to take charge, your ability to sense his and his brother’s discomfort and just _handle_ it—it was impossibly charming.

His fingers skated over your waist as you turned to reclaim your seat, and he pulled you to him, pressing a kiss to your lips. He felt you smile against him and, for just a second, the music and the lights and the group of friends faded away—

—and instantly reappeared at a chorus of protests from his friends.

He smiled sheepishly as Zen wolf-whistled. You pulled away, fingers brushing against his wrist before you returned to your seat.

“Hyuuung, everyone else here is single and you’re making us sad!” chided Yoosung. Saeyoung just grinned at him.

Zen had already distributed the rest of the shot glasses, and he called out “cheers!” and held his up. Saeyoung’s eyes were on you as he took his own “shot,” wincing as the lemon juice stung his throat. You took your own—presumably _not_ lemon juice—gracefully, giggling as the group cheered.

Saeyoung felt a tingly feeling somewhere in his abdomen. _Huh._

Never in his life had he found alcohol, or anything concerning it, appealing. But for some reason, the ease with which you comported yourself in the bar, the casual way you took the shot, was somehow— _very_ attractive.

Just like everything about you, he supposed.

He found his own spot at the bar and allowed himself to get wrapped up in a conversation with an increasingly messier Yoosung. He half-listened as his friend chatted; most of his attention was on you, as you accepted another drink that was ordered for you by one of the others.

Saeyoung realized something.

_I’ve never seen her drunk before._

He’d seen you drink, of course—with their friends, at parties, and so on. But he’d never actually seen you _drunk_.

He thought that maybe it should bother him, since his associations with drunkenness were markedly negative—but somehow, his mother’s alcoholism and the kind of social drinking that was happening all around him felt almost like two distinct entities. Maybe it was the relinquishing of control, the lowering of inhibitions—one way or another, something about the present situation excited him.

He watched in his peripheral vision as you laughed at Jumin and Zen’s bickering, sipping your drink. Maybe the night would be more interesting than he’d anticipated.

* * *

As time passed, Saeyoung found himself genuinely enjoying himself, in a way he never used to. In the past, he’d seen his friends only intermittently and usually just one at a time, and most of his mind was always muted to the world around him, turned inward, focused on disguising and deflecting and protecting.

Now, for the first time in his life, he was free to focus solely on the people in front of him. It was liberating.

Even Saeran seemed more or less at peace, listening to Yoosung chat about games while sipping a soda. The group, as a whole, was the most relaxed Saeyoung had ever seen them—and not just because of the alcohol. Saeyoung managed to convince Jumin to buy some sort of giant doughnut (that actually ended up tasting delicious), and he got Jaehee to enumerate her entire collection of Zen’s DVDs to see the look of mixed delight and embarrassment on Zen’s face.

He did also, admittedly, enjoy watching his friends become steadily sloppier as the night went on.

As the sober one in the group, he’d often gotten to witness his friends let down their inhibitions. It never failed to amuse him.

Yoosung was, of course, an emotional drunk. Saeyoung watched him put his head on Saeran’s shoulder—much to the other boy’s shock and confusion—and tearfully relate a failed LOLOL mission. Moments later, he sprung to his feet and made Saeran pinky-promise to play the game with him next time.

Zen was accustomed to drinking a lot, Saeyoung knew, and he rarely saw him act inebriated. Still, he seemed to grow _lankier_ over the course of the night—he’d have one arm draped over what seemed like the entire bar, and his legs were somehow everywhere at once. And he was touchy, pinching Saeyoung’s cheek and managing to get his hands on everyone’s legs. Saeyoung kept an eye on him whenever he edged close to you, but Zen—even after what seemed an endless number of beers—was respectful of your personal space, if not of anyone else’s.

Jaehee kept it together pretty well too, though Saeyoung noticed her normally formal speech patterns starting to break down. He overheard her telling you that she wanted to try to convince Zen to sing before the night was over. Saeyoung thought that sounded like an excellent idea.

Jumin got quieter. He beckoned Saeyoung over to tell him something, and Saeyoung had to lean close to hear him—he was practically whispering.

“I have a joke,” he murmured. His words were slightly slurred, but Saeyoung wouldn’t have noticed if he hadn’t undergone years of training to pick up on the slightest shifts in people’s behavior and speech patterns.

“Yeah?” 

“What,” said Jumin, “did the alien say to the cat?”

Saeyoung raised his eyebrows. “What?”

Jumin looked like he was trying hard to hold back his laughter. “Take me…to your litter,” he said, and then he grinned—a true, earnest grin, one Saeyoung had rarely seen. 

And Saeyoung cracked up. How could he not?

“That’s…that’s a joke, all right,” he said, cackling. 

From behind him, he heard another laugh and, as always, he felt drawn to it—as he did when he heard it beside him in bed or from the other side of the house or here in the bar or over the phone, the very first time he’d ever heard it.

He turned slightly, lips quirked in a smile, taking you in.

You were standing beside Yoosung, clearly having inserted yourself into his increasingly-less-coherent conversation with Saeran. Saeran sat on your other side, looking relieved at the intervention. Zen was leaning over both of you, muttering something. Jaehee was on his other side, one hand pressed over her mouth as she laughed.

On the outside, you were composed. Your gaze was alert and your posture was perfect. You were as put-together as always.

But Saeyoung had been watching you all night, and he knew better.

He’d watched you accept drinks from all his friends—who seemed to be competing to purchase the most for you (a pointless competition, thought Saeyoung—no matter what, that was a contest he could always win). He observed as you drank whatever was handed to you and he noticed the subtle shifts in your behavior—in the way that only he could.

At first, you were a little more relaxed—he saw it in your shoulders and your hips, heard it in the way you laughed just a little bit longer. Gradually, you became bolder, throwing an arm over Jaehee’s shoulder as you talked to her, daring Zen to wink at some girls ogling him from the other side of the bar (he did it, of course). Now, you were talking faster than usual, and you’d started running your fingers through your hair. Saeyoung watched as you sipped the cocktail Jumin had just handed you, laughing uncontrollably at whatever Zen was saying.

To his friends, you probably seemed tipsy at best—you didn’t slur your words or stumble, and he’d never catch you admitting to being drunk the way Yoosung did, stepping forward to declare his state of intoxication for the group to hear.

But Saeyoung, his senses fine-tuned by his training and his close—and constant—observation of you, could tell.

“Are you jealous?” said a soft voice beside him, and Saeyoung started—he’d totally tuned out Jumin, eyes fixed on you as you leaned forward, the rest of his friends crowding around you.

Saeyoung threw Jumin a wink. “Nah. I know who she’s going home with.”

Jumin coughed softly, looking a little uncomfortable. “But it bothers you how much everyone loves her.”

Saeyoung didn’t answer. He ran a hand through his messy red hair, feeling a little self-conscious.

At that moment, a new song came on—a familiar one, which Saeyoung knew you liked because you always turned the radio up when it came on in the car.

You squealed and leapt from your stool—he saw you sway for a split second and reflexively stepped forward, but you pulled yourself together almost immediately. You grabbed Jaehee’s hand and pulled her with you into the middle of the floor, laughing and singing along.

Naturally, Yoosung and Zen followed suit, forming a little group on the dance floor. You spun Jaehee around and she laughed, the four of you enthusiastically jumping around to the music.

Saeyoung dug his hands into his jeans pockets, avoiding Jumin’s curious gaze.

Okay, he wasn’t jealous, but he wasn’t _not_ jealous, either.

Saeran slid down the bar and leaned next to his brother. Saeyoung thought they probably made a funny picture, the three of them: the tall, handsome man in his three-piece suit beside the two smaller redheads, identical except for their eyes and their outfits.

“Your girlfriend’s drunk,” said Saeran. His tone wasn’t accusatory—just curious. He’d been watching her too, Saeyoung realized—almost as interested as he was, if not for the same reasons.

“Fiancée,” Saeyoung corrected automatically.

“Is she?” mused Jumin. “She seemed just fine to me when I was speaking to her.”

“It’s—” started Saeran.

“That,” finished Saeyoung, quirking an eyebrow as the sleeve of your shirt slipped down over your shoulder and you didn’t bother to fix it.

Jumin chuckled. At the same time, you spun around, and your eyes—much brighter than usual, Saeyoung thought—landed squarely on him.

For a moment, Saeyoung forgot everything. He forgot that you were his fiancée and that you’d arrived together. Forgot that, no matter what, he’d be driving you home and tucking you into the bed you shared later that night. That, just that morning, he’d watched you dance around the kitchen in his t-shirt, cooking eggs for him and his brother.

For a split second, he was just a kid in a bar, awkward and self-conscious, sober and enchanted with you. And you were perfect—resplendent in your confidence, impossibly sexy in your little skirt with your shirt hanging off your shoulder. 

As you sashayed up to him, he felt his face heat up, and he averted his eyes. This girl couldn’t be looking at _him_.

But it was you, and of course you were.

You wiggled your hips as you approached and reached for his hand, which he gave you reflexively.

“Dance with me, God Seven,” you purred. 

You were totally oblivious to the other men on either side of him, watching with amusement. He let you pull him up, and he couldn’t help but grin at the way you unabashedly hooked a finger through the belt loop of his jeans, pulling him with you onto the dance floor. He let his hands float to your waist, finding comfort in the familiarity of your body under his hands.

The song was another one he recognized—he’d definitely heard you singing along to it in the shower. He grabbed your hand and abruptly spun you around, laughing as you shrieked and almost lost your footing. He caught you easily and swept you off your feet, dipping you low, almost to the beer-soaked floor.

He scooped you up and you grasped both his hands, face flushed, your beautiful laugh bubbling up. He led you in a crazy dance, not caring how ridiculous he looked, just chasing that look of utter joy in your eyes. He found himself singing along too, letting you take a turn twirling him around. He felt Yoosung, Zen, and Jaehee drawing closer, and for a moment, it was just the five of you in the middle of dance floor, limbs and laughter and the bar’s red lights pulsing around you.

Then the song ended, and you paused to catch your breath, leaning your face against his chest. He absently ran a hand through your hair, pressing his lips to the top of your head.

A new song started—a much slower one with what Saeyoung could only describe as a sensual beat. He felt your hands skimming over his hips and grasping the waistband of his jeans again. Simultaneously, he felt a spark of heat low in his torso and a different kind of heat on his cheeks. He was very aware of both your fingers moving over his hips and the gaze of his friends.

“Uh, sh-should we be like this right now?” he muttered into your hair. He felt every point of contact between your bodies like a little firework.

You didn’t answer him. Instead, you ran your fingers up his chest and shivers followed in your wake. You looked up at him and he recognized the look in your eyes immediately—a look that was reserved just for him and, usually, just for private moments in the bunker. His heart was going into overdrive. _Error error error._

You moved to the music effortlessly, and he swayed with you, hesitantly resting his hands on your hips. Your fingers curled into his hair and you pressed your body into his. He repressed a moan that almost escaped his lips as you wiggled your hips, hands drifting from his hair down his face and onto his chest. He could feel every part of you, your hipbones against his thigh, the outline of your bra through the thin fabric of your shirt.

He couldn’t keep it together.

It was like he was drunk too, the world blurring out around him as he zeroed in on your touch and the way your bodies moved together, slowly, sensually, and he felt the heady thrill of being close like this, and the bass pulsed through his body as he moved with you, sliding his hands over your hips, grazing your butt, trailing over your waist.

Suddenly, you grinded against him, and he felt his hips twitch reflexively in response to you, the very core of his being longing for more. _Tease._

“If you do that again I won’t be able to control myself,” he whispered huskily in your ear and you gave him a cheeky grin that made his toes curl.

“So don’t,” you whispered back, swaying, your hands ghosting over his torso.

“Don’t try me,” he said, and this time he grinded against you, delighting at the look of longing he saw flash in your eyes. “I won’t be able to stop.”

“Right here?” you giggled, weaving your fingers into his hair again.

“Right here,” he whispered into your hair, running his fingernails up your back.

_Oh god._

In spite of his feigned control, his body was reacting in spite of himself, and he felt his pants getting tighter as his arousal built. He gritted his teeth, trying to will it away.

At that moment, the song faded into another one—much more upbeat. It was enough to disrupt his hyper-fixation on you, and the world came back into focus.

Over your head, he caught a glimpse of his friends, who seemed to have given up dancing entirely in favor of the much more interesting activity of watching the two of you.

Zen’s mouth was hanging open, as he stood unabashedly in the middle of the dance floor. Next to him, Yoosung laughed awkwardly, leaning against Jaehee who had a frustratingly knowing smile on her face. Behind them, Saeyoung spotted Saeran (looking utterly unfazed) and Jumin (looking markedly uncomfortable).

Saeyoung’s head spun. He was turned on and embarrassed, stimulated and uncomfortable; he wanted to keep his hands on you and he wanted to cover all his friends’ stupid eyes.

Suddenly, you—wonderful, thrilling, provocative you—stood on tiptoe and leaned in. You wobbled a little but steadied yourself against his shoulder.

“Come with me,” you whispered in his ear. And before he had a chance to register what was about to happen, you grabbed him by the hand and pulled him through the crowd. He focused on the feeling of your hand tightly grasping his, shutting out the concerns dancing at the corners of his mind—feeling excitement building within him.

Giggling, you tugged him across the dance floor to the back of the bar, then through a curtain, down a hallway—and into the bathroom.

Thankfully, it was a single-stall unisex bathroom.

_Would it have mattered if it weren’t?_ Saeyoung wondered vaguely as he reached behind him to pull the lock on the door. Hungrily, he took you in.

You stood facing him, flushed and bright-eyed and eager. Your pupils were huge and you were a little disheveled, your normally-pristine outfit hanging off you and your hair mussed. You stepped toward him, slightly unsteadily.

Saeyoung was all over the place. He couldn’t believe how turned on he was just from dancing with you. He was already half-hard, straining against his tight jeans. He felt hot all over, and his hands were shaking. _But also_ their friends were just outside and they were in a _bar_ and it wasn’t like he’d never had sex with you in a semi-public place before, because you’d _definitely_ fucked in every single one of his cars, but this was different because of the RFA and you were drunk and—

He screamed internally.

You stopped him.

You came to stand directly in front of him with your wide eyes staring up at him and your exposed collarbones flushed and your breath on his neck and he couldn’t keep it together anymore.

He grabbed your shoulders roughly with both hands, relishing at the little moan that escaped your throat. Then he kissed you, hard, letting his hands roam freely over your body.

“See what you’ve done to me,” he whispered desperately, his voice strangled in his throat. You moaned again and he put a finger to your lips. You took his finger in your mouth and, ever-so-gently, bit it.

_Oh no._

He grabbed your shirt and tore it from your body, frantically running his hands over the edges of the lacy bra he’d been feeling through your shirt while you danced. Then he ripped off his own shirt and immediately your hands were on him, roaming over his warm chest.

You slipped one hand down, skimming over his stomach and stroking the bulge in his pants. He shuddered, gasping out your name.

“No, you first,” he whispered. He ran his hand over your thigh and felt for the zipper of your skirt.

“No time,” you hissed. “I need you right now.”

He could work with that.

He grabbed you roughly by the hips, scooping you up. You eagerly wrapped your legs around his hips and he carried you the few steps to the sink, letting you down on the cold ceramic. He bit his lip as he caressed your inner thigh, skimming his fingers under your skirt and against your lacy panties, already wet with your desire. _All for me_ , he thought.

“S-Saeyoung, please…” you cried, arching against him. 

He slipped his fingers under your underwear and found your clit, flicking against it and then rubbing in gentle circles. You bucked against him, gripping his shoulders with tight fingers.

He could tell you were already close. He slipped his index finger inside you, curling into you as he rubbed circles on your clit with his thumb. Your thighs tightened around him, digging into his sides. You leaned back against the mirror, your whole body trembling. He leaned over and grazed his teeth against your neck, loving the feeling of your frantic, desperate breaths beneath his mouth. 

And you came beneath him, trembling and cresting, pressed against the mirror as your back arched. 

Fortuitously, your sudden movement activated the motion-sensor, and the sink started running, the sound muffling your gentle moans and the thud of both of your bodies slamming into the sink.

Saeyoung’s legs shook—he was so close already, just from watching you. He held your hips and you grasped at his sides, pulling yourself up to look him in the eye. He didn’t know how much longer he could keep it together. 

“I want you inside me right now,” you demanded, voice soft and low, and his hand was already on his zipper and his cock sprang from his pants. He was panting, positioning himself in front of you, pulling your panties to the side and hitching your skirt up higher on your hips.

You wavered a little and he steadied you instinctively, eyes searching yours. Your gaze was a little out of focus, and suddenly, Saeyoung felt worry crashing around him, almost outweighing his desire.

“Um,” he said.

Something changed in your gaze, and you withdrew a little, looking puzzled. The sink still ran behind you in an endless stream of cold water.

“You okay, babe?” you asked, voice finally starting to sound a little slurred—from your orgasm or all the cocktails or some combination of the two.

“Yeah, it’s just—you’re pretty drunk, right?”

You pushed yourself up on the sink, using his shoulder for leverage. He saw emotions battling in your eyes, pleasure turning to puzzlement turning to horror.

“Oh god,” you said. “Saeyoung, does it bother you? I’m sorry, I really wasn’t thinking, I—”

“What?” _Oh._ “Oh! Oh, babe, no, no, it’s nothing like that!” He ran a gentle finger over your face, trying to smooth the lines of worry that had suddenly appeared. “That’s not it at all. It’s actually kind of—a turn on…for some reason?”

You laughed, and he felt the relief in your body as you tightened your legs around his waist, nuzzling against his neck.

“It’s just—” he continued, stifling a moan as you kissed and then gently nipped his neck. “It’s just, you’re drunk and I’m completely sober, and I don’t want to—take advantage of you.”

To his surprise, you burst out laughing.

You grabbed his face in both hands, and when your eyes met his, your gaze was totally steady.

“Saeyoung, I practically seduced you on the dance floor, then I literally dragged you into a bar bathroom,” you said, now running a finger up along his thigh, stopping just under his cock. His hips twitched reflexively in anticipation. “Now I need you to fuck me, in this bar bathroom, on this sink, right now.”

He searched your eyes for any sign of dissent. Your resolve was unwavering.

A wave of heat flooded his body again, pooling in his stomach.

“Say it again,” he said breathily.

“Please,” you murmured, all hot and pink and trembling, perched so provocatively in front of him on the edge of the sink. He hovered over you, grazing against you with the tip of his cock. “P-please fuck me, Saeyoung.” 

It was almost too much for him.

He thrusted into you abruptly, and you bucked against him, letting out a little cry. His whole body shook with the pleasure of finally being inside of you, feeling your warm, tight walls around him.

A string of incoherent syllables poured from his mouth and he thrust into you again, trying to keep his composure, rocking his hips as slowly as he could stand to. He threw one arm out to catch himself on the wall and you moved your hips in sync with his. He kept up his torturously slow pace, enjoying the little mewls of pleasure that came from you.

You squeezed around him, and he felt his thighs start to shake.

“I-if you do that I’m gonna c-cum right now,” he muttered, grasping for something blindly and finding your arm, then your chest, running his hand over your waist and the fabric of your bra.

“I want you to,” you murmured in response, fingernails grazing his neck and shoulders.

He gradually picked up the pace, rocking into you with force, grunting as the heat washed over him and his vision blurred.

When he could hardly stand it anymore, you lifted yourself off the surface of the sink, using his body to hold you up. You rocked into him, and he felt you, tight and hot and wet all around him, and he couldn’t help himself.

He came in an explosion of mental fireworks, hot light bursting behind his eyes until he couldn’t see. He moaned through it, calling your name, his bangs sticking to his face and his hands against your smooth skin and your hands on him and you all around him and—

_Ah._

When it was over, the world returned slowly. He felt the pressure of your fingertips on him, and the cold ceramic sink under his hands. You caressed his neck as he twitched against you, panting as his orgasm faded.

“Oh my god,” he muttered, catching his breath and raising his eyes to meet yours. Your face was bright and warm and perfect, and he ran a finger over your cheek. You squeezed down on him again and he trembled, letting out a little moan—which made you snicker.

He pulled himself out of you and cleaned you both up in a daze, using wads of the fancy bar’s nice toilet paper. Then he helped you off the sink.

“That was—” he started.

“Yeah,” you responded.

“You look a little—” He took you in. You struck a pose and he chuckled as he walked around you in a circle, fixing your clothes. He pulled your skirt down and helped you into your shirt, tucking it neatly around your body. He smoothed your hair, taking his time brushing it back behind your ears.

He didn’t really bother much with himself. He fixed his glasses, which were askew and totally fogged up, and ran a careless hand through his hair.

“Shall we?” he said, offering you his arm. You cackled. The whiplash from lust to goofiness was something he prided himself on, and it never failed to amuse you.

“Lead the way, darling.”

You made your way back through the little hallway and the crowded dance floor to the bar, around which he was simultaneously relieved and horrified to find all his friends still sitting.

Jaehee spotted you first.

“Ah-ha!” she said, pointing at you victoriously. The gang spun around, some of them nearly tipping off their stools.

Zen raised his eyebrows. Then, slowly, he set down his beer can and started to clap.

Saeyoung flushed a deep red as Yoosung and Jaehee enthusiastically joined in. He couldn’t meet any of their eyes.

Beside him, with a flourish, you gave a grand curtsey.

_Of course you did._

So, laughing along, Saeyoung took a bow.

“Well,” said Jumin, checking his watch (and pointedly avoiding meeting his friends’ eyes). “I think it’s time to call it a night.”

“Noooo,” whined Yoosung, but Saeyoung secretly agreed.

He kept your warm hand in his as the tab was paid and everyone gathered their things—some more successfully than others. He was amused to see Saeran helping Yoosung into his jacket—his twin looked more amused than annoyed, an expression Saeyoung was starting to get used to.

“You’re fine driving, right?” Jumin asked, leaning over to quietly address Saeyoung as he typed into his phone, presumably ordering luxury cars for the rest of the group.

Saeyoung gave him a thumbs up. “As ever,” he said.

Jaehee led the way out of the bar, weaving expertly through the growing crowd on the dance floor. You were uncharacteristically quiet, hanging on Saeyoung’s arm as he led you toward the door.

As the chill night air hit his face, taking him by surprise, he felt you press up against his side, slipping a hand in his back pocket.

“I’m not done with you yet,” you whispered, barely audible over the general chatter of the rest of the group.

Saeyoung raised his eyebrows.

“Is that right?”

“You’ll see when we get home,” you said, waggling your eyebrows at him. 

He felt his face breaking into a smile, tugging you against him and wrapping an arm around your waist, hand resting on your thigh.

“I can’t wait.”

**Author's Note:**

> Songs:
> 
> I was listening to my playlist of super popular kpop songs while writing this and here's what I imagine playing in the bar~
> 
> 1st song they all dance to - Not Shy (ITZY)  
> 2nd song MC and Saeyoung dance to - Boy with Luv (BTS, Halsey)  
> Sexy song - Sweet Lies (Exo)


End file.
